


Black Ink

by theonetryingtolive



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:20:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24698224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonetryingtolive/pseuds/theonetryingtolive
Summary: “No! I really am sorry. But also please don’t send me back to Lieb.”“Fine, fine,” you murmured, and nodded at him to sit behind you. “I need a pillow.”
Relationships: Johnny Martin/reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Black Ink

Once the thunderous nightmare of enemy fire was over, at least for now, you found yourself a nice, quiet spot where you could sit and recharge your batteries. Or try to, at any rate. It was hard to focus on anything that wasn’t the immediate present when you weren’t even sure you were going to make it through another encounter with the Krauts. From your bag you took out a battered copy of British poetry that someone, you really couldn’t remember who, had given you when you were still in England. The book had been taped together many times during its life before being handed to you, and it was only by a miracle that you had managed to keep it mostly unscathed. You had a piece of hard bread that you nibbled on as you opened the book.

Before the war, you hadn’t been the biggest fan of poetry, but now the old poems were like old friends you could come back to when you needed them the most. They were waiting for you to open the pages of the book and breathe life into them. You saw Johnny Martin from the corner of your eye when he sat next to you, but you didn’t close the book. The last couple of days he had been pissy, which was understandable in your current situation, but that didn’t mean that he got a free pass. You knew he was looking at you, giving you the sort of apologetic smile he only whipped out when he knew he had been an ass. Finally, you dogeared one of the pages, and looked at him.

From the moment you met him you noticed Martin operated under a unique brand of quiet composure that, more often than not, was broken by his annoyed glares and snappy sentences when someone fucked up. You’d learned to read his expressions in a way others couldn’t. Sometimes, under the annoyed glances, you caught a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. Others, when someone had truly and irredeemably fucked up, you saw just how much annoyance was being held back by his glare. Today he was attempting a smile, waiting to see if you’d speak first. You placed the book down, and crossed your arms.

After what felt like hours but was closer to two minutes, Johnny looked down and away. “I was an ass.”

You nodded, but didn’t add anything to what he had said, just kept on looking at him.

“And I shouldn’t have been.” At your raised eyebrow, he sighed. “I’m real sorry. You were right.”

You smiled, and nodded, your posture relaxing. “Thank you.”

“Please don’t be mad at me anymore, I can’t take another night sleeping with Lieb. He shoves me in his sleep!”

At that, you laughed. “That’s what was really bothering you, wasn’t it? That Lieb shoves you and steals the blanket?”

“No! I really am sorry. But also please don’t send me back to Lieb.”

“Fine, fine,” you murmured, and nodded at him to sit behind you. “I need a pillow.”

Johnny smiled, and sat behind you. You made yourself comfortable between his legs and opened the book again. Not much later, you were told to move, and your book went back in your bag.

A week later you once again found yourself on your own with some time to spare, you opened your book and noticed something strange. Tucked between its pages was a small, very obviously handmade, bookmark. In Johnny’s scrawl there was written one of Shakespeare’s famous sonnet lines.

“That in black ink my love may still shine bright.”


End file.
